


Yours in Dysphoria

by starvinbohemian



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starvinbohemian/pseuds/starvinbohemian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny thinks it must be unnatural to desire a man who has been with his husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours in Dysphoria

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate take on a scene from the June 29, 2015 episode.

        Paul appeared out of nowhere, like a mirage in the desert, interrupting Sonny’s blind stumble toward the lake.

        Paul said his name, and Sonny just stared dumbly at him. The sun was too bright in his eyes, his shirt too warm and already sticking to his back, and Paul was suddenly _there_ , filling up all the spaces that were already crowding over in Sonny’s brain. He took an instinctive step back.

        Sonny went to the lake in something of a daze, because that was where he went when he needed to think. He really needed to think. 

         _(God, he didn’t want to think. He didn’t.)_

        He had forgotten about the crowds of people that gathered at the lake throughout the summer. Their voices and laughter grated on his ears, and seeing Paul just then was more than he could take.

        “Sonny?” He started to come closer, but Sonny shook his head and backed away with more conviction. He didn’t understand how Paul could expect him to talk, as if Sonny’s world weren’t fracturing down the middle, as if he could possibly translate his feelings into actual words just then.

        He couldn’t do this, not now. He needed privacy to let out the scream that had been building inside of him since Chad had unintentionally dropped the news that Will had been trying to bribe their marriage counselor.

        (And, honestly, probably for a lot longer than that.) 

        Paul edged closer. “Can you talk to me about it?”

        Sonny looked at him, torn. _No_ , he knew. He couldn’t. Not when, just days ago, Paul had told him that he didn’t want to talk to Sonny unless it was about _them_. He didn’t want to hear about Sonny’s problems with Will. He promised that he would never do that to Paul, and he meant it. 

        But there was a yawning ache inside of him, spreading wider by the second, and seeing Paul— sun-kissed and dripping wet from the lake and looking at him with so much concern and confusion— made Sonny want to break that promise. God, Paul wanted to _help_ him, didn’t he? Would he still, if he knew how close Sonny was to...?

        He could feel himself cracking, which was reason enough for why he couldn’t talk to Paul just then. For Paul’s sake, if not for his own.

        With something close to panic, Sonny said, before running off, “I can’t talk about this with you. I just _can’t_.”

        And maybe that wasn’t the best way to come off as _okay_ , but Sonny had barely turned his back on Paul before his face scrunched up with suppressed tears. _Please don’t_ , he begged himself. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of picnickers and Paul. 

        He stumbled toward the trees, not knowing exactly where he was going. He just knew he had to keep moving because… because…

         _"Sonny, listen to me. It only happened once.”_

        Only once. Only once with Paul. Only once with… whoever he was in Los Angeles.

        Sonny made it deep into the woods before he swayed on his feet, the pain nearly knocking him over. He caught himself on a tree just as the sob finally tore from his throat. He leaned fully into the cold bark, letting the tree hold him up.

        It was broken. Everything he thought he had… it was all broken. How could they come back from this? What was there to come back to?

        “Sonny?”

        Paul had followed him. Of course he had. _Go away_ , Sonny silently pleaded. _Please_ … He didn’t want Paul to see him like this, but he couldn’t move.

        Paul touched him on the shoulder. “Hey.” When Sonny didn’t respond, Paul gently turned Sonny toward himself.

        Sonny couldn’t look at him. He kept his gaze lowered, even when Paul tilted his chin up, trying to meet his eyes. Paul lightly brushed the wetness from his cheeks, and his hands lingered on Sonny’s face. “Sonny,” he pleaded. “I’m right here. Talk to me.”

        He wished it were that simple. There were so many reasons why Sonny couldn’t confide in Paul, and he wanted to shove them all down deep inside of himself so he wouldn’t have to look at any of them anymore.

        He squirmed miserably, pressing back against the tree and away from Paul, both loving and hating having Paul’s hands on him. If Sonny could have crawled right out of his own skin at that moment, then he would have.

       _"Do you have any idea how it feels to have a husband that thinks that I’m not at his level? It feels like crap. And you know what you do when you feel like crap?"_

        Paul soothed his thumb over Sonny’s mouth, gently stopping him from gnawing on his lower lip. When Paul’s thumb kept moving over his lips, Sonny finally gave in and looked up, helplessly, into Paul’s gaze. They stared at one another, too close to hide anything, and Sonny felt himself being absorbed into Paul’s eyes. Blotted out. The longer he looked, he lighter he felt. Wouldn’t it be easier to just be erased? 

        Paul had no idea how dangerous it was to look at Sonny as he was when Sonny had never felt more disposable or less desirable. 

        It occurred to him then that it must be unnatural to desire a man who had been with his husband. And he did. In that moment, every inch of him wanted to blend together with every inch of Paul. _Erase me_ , he thought. 

        “Tell me,” Paul urged. He looked so worried. Sonny absently reached up and soothed out the crease in his forehead. Paul’s eyes briefly closed at Sonny’s touch. 

        There were other people he could get this from. He could do as Will did, and find reassurance from a stranger in any of Salem’s gay bars. He could. It didn’t have to be Paul. But… he wanted it to be Paul. 

        His eyes slid hungrily over Paul’s body, so close he could feel the heat of him. The ache he felt… it wasn’t just wrong; it was sick. Shouldn’t it matter? 

        But he must have wanted this. Why else would he keep finding himself in this same place, constantly on the brink of giving in to the pull between them?

        He could see that Paul felt it, too. The obvious longing on Paul’s face triggered Sonny’s conscience back to life. He tried to gently untangle Paul’s hands from his face, but Paul’s hold only fell to Sonny's shoulders as he waited for an answer.

        “I _can’t_ ,” Sonny said weakly. “I promised you.”

        “Sonny… no. _No_. I didn’t mean that. You can talk to me. You can talk to me about anything.”

        Paul was so wrong. He tried to pull away, but Paul somehow managed to pull him closer instead, and Sonny suddenly found himself wrapped up in a firm hug. He struggled half-heartedly before giving in with a sigh. Paul’s determination was stronger than Sonny’s resistance at the moment. 

        Paul’s body was still damp from the lake, but his skin was burning hot from the afternoon sun. He could smell Paul’s sun block. Pressed against him, Sonny whimpered pathetically. This felt so familiar. Too familiar. Paul didn’t know what he was doing to him.

        “Tell me?” he murmured against Sonny’s temple. 

        Will’s voice echoed once more through his mind. _“It only happened once.”_

        Sonny pulled back, just far enough that he could see Paul’s face. Paul smiled at him. He brushed some hair back from Sonny’s ear. 

         _Just once_ , he thought.

        Sonny wanted to tell Paul what was wrong, what Will had done. He could relieve Paul of the guilt he claimed to feel for the night… the night Sonny _thought_ had broken a crucial link in his marriage’s chain. Little did he know that it was already broken. It broke a long time ago. 

         _Didn’t it, Will?_

        Sonny could absolve Paul of that responsibility, since it wasn’t really his to begin with. He could. Maybe it would absolve them both for… this. He wanted to let Paul make it better for him. Paul wanted to help. Sonny just had to tell him.

        “I love you,” he said instead.

        He saw his words register on Paul’s face. In the way that his eyes widened and his face went slack. Why did he look so surprised? Sonny thought he already knew. Paul acted as if it were a given that Sonny loved him back. He said he knew in his heart that they were supposed to be together.

        Didn’t he know? 

        Paul said his name with something like awe in his voice. Sonny suddenly felt the tears threatening to return, and he would have run again, but then Paul cupped his face. He first kissed one of Sonny’s cheeks and then the other, his lips lightly brushing the tear tracks away. Sonny squeezed his eyes shut, trembling. Just this small touch made his insides quake.

        He felt Paul’s nose lightly brush his own and then the breath of air against Sonny’s lips as Paul asked, “Can I?”

        It was awkward to open his eyes then, with Paul already so close to him. So close that the brush of his lashes had Paul opening his eyes, too. They regarded each other, too close and still not close enough. They were never close enough. Before, Sonny had never let them be in moments like this. He knew better.

        (Before already felt like a lifetime ago.)

        He felt an invisible hand close around his throat. There wasn’t enough air to fill his lungs. 

        Paul’s eyes pleaded with him as he waited for an answer. He took Sonny’s hand and held it there against his chest. He could feel Paul’s heart beating wildly beneath his palm.

        There must have been something wrong with him that he could still want Paul as much as he did. The very sight of him should infuriate Sonny. There should be simmering anger and banked pain, the fierce cut of betrayal, the way it still was when he looked at Will. 

        But there wasn’t. He didn’t know why. He just knew that he wanted Paul as much as he ever had, as much as that first time in San Francisco. 

        When Sonny saw Paul, his fingers itched to touch. When Paul gave him that look, the one he saved just for Sonny, the one that told him it was hurting Paul to stay away from him, it was as if he were reaching right inside of him and touching all the places Sonny tried to pretend weren’t there. 

        Paul pressed closer to him, and Sonny realized he had been silent for too long. Paul’s fingers curled into the front of Sonny’s shirt, and he tried to pull him still closer. Sonny’s silence had obviously unnerved him. “I love you, too,” he said. “I’ve always loved you. Sonny, always—”

        Sonny stopped him with a finger over his lips. He couldn’t bear to hear that from Paul, not because he didn’t want it, but because he wanted it too much. He wanted everything too much. He was tired of fighting this. He didn’t want to anymore.

        And so, he said, rather _begged_ , “Kiss me, Paul?” 

        And there it was. A boundary long danced around, finally crossed. But had he crossed it alone? For one terrifying second, Paul just looked at him. Sonny’s heart started to sink, and he saw himself as Paul must see him: desperate and broken and lashing out. Pathetic. 

        Embarrassed, he started to push him away.

        But then Paul said, “Say it again,” and the look in his eyes made Sonny’s heart race.

        “Kiss me,” he said. 

        He did. Paul’s lips finally pressed against his, and Sonny’s half-year battle was lost.

        It would have been embarrassing how eager they were, how sloppy— _if_ they had the presence of mind left to care. They didn’t. They pawed at each other, frantic in their hunger. Sonny finally got to _touch_ , and he let his hands roam freely over Paul’s muscled chest and back. It was like the first taste of _air_. Sonny could _breathe_ again. Except he couldn't actually because Paul was stealing his breath away. 

        Paul pressed Sonny back against the tree as he tore his shirt off, no doubt costing him a button or two in the process. Sonny suddenly couldn't bear the thought of any clothes, of any barriers between them. He reached down into the back of Paul’s swimming trunks, and pushed the shorts down and out of the way. Paul divested Sonny of his pants and then ripped his underwear down with a growl that went straight to Sonny’s cock.

        They were really doing this. Sonny’s mind was on fire. He felt unleashed. He couldn’t get enough. Paul was _everywhere_ , touching him everywhere, his teeth and tongue working at Sonny’s neck as he lifted Sonny’s leg up over his hip and ground him back against the tree, their cocks sliding together, until they were both gasping and swearing. 

        Sonny winced at the scrape of rough bark against his bare back, but couldn’t bring himself to protest. Each sting of pain was also a shock of pleasure to his inflamed mind and body. They wrestled each other down to the ground. 

        Even under the canopy of trees, the summer heat was brutal on them, and they were already slick with sweat against each other. They ended up in a tangle at the foot of the tree, Sonny pulled onto Paul’s lap. They had done this so many times in the past that, even years later, the dance was familiar. 

        He watched with glazed eyes as Paul sucked his own fingers and then reached down between Sonny’s legs. He whimpered as Paul’s fingers teased and then slid inside of him. Sonny let his head fall back with a moan. He had _missed_ this. Missed _Paul_. Even if he never before admitted it to himself. Paul knew his body with the thoroughness of a dedicated connoisseur. 

        Moving against those determined fingers brought desperate sounds out of him. Paul pulled their foreheads together. Their gazes locked, and every sound Sonny made, every sigh, whimper, _gasp_ , fell against Paul’s mouth. Paul devoured every reaction, his eyes bright and hungry.

        Sonny begged, “Paul, _please_.” He already wanted more than fingers. He wanted Paul inside of him. He could practically feel his heart clawing its way out of his body and into Paul’s, and it terrified him. 

        Paul was already ahead of him. Losing patience, he rolled them over so that Sonny was beneath him, his back pressed onto the soft ground. Sonny suddenly became more aware of his surroundings, of the moss and the dirt and the pine all around him. There was mud on his knees. They were coupling in the dirt like animals.

        In a flash, Paul had covered his body with his own. If there were any doubt as to what they were about to do, then Paul’s fingers, pressing in and out of him with more purpose now, would have removed it. Sonny bucked against those fingers, his cries lost against Paul’s mouth. 

        They kissed frantically, and Sonny’s hands scratched at Paul’s bare shoulders, his legs spread wide around Paul. The press and rub of their naked bodies had them both moaning. Paul rocked them both as if he were already inside of Sonny. The thought gave him another shot of pleasure down his body, though it was immediately hampered by another memory.

        It came to him unbidden, out of the depths of his heart as he was bearing his neck to Paul’s eager mouth— and he froze with horror.

         _“I wanted it…”_

        No. He didn't want to go there, he didn't, but... this was probably how it was with Will.

        Sonny knew them both intimately, knew their bodies and their desires. His husband was probably in this exact position that night, lying beneath Paul like this, kissing Paul, wanting Paul. Paul’s hands on him… Paul _inside_ of him… 

        His stomach gave a sick twist. Sonny was about to push him away when Paul suddenly caught his face, forcing eye contact between them. “Hey,” Paul said softly. He gently stroked Sonny’s flanks, as if he were calming a spooked horse. “You still with me?”

        Sonny could only nod, his words choked back by the ugliness that had risen like bile in his throat. There was never a thought to tell Paul the truth. Sonny wouldn’t hurt him with knowledge of the nausea he suddenly felt from Paul’s touch. He couldn’t anyway, because then he would have to explain why it wasn’t enough to stop him.

        Yes, he was sick. Sick in his heart and in his blood that rushed to everywhere Paul touched him. For the first time in his life, Sonny felt like a deviant. This wasn’t right. It was all tainted. But he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. 

        Paul leaned down and kissed Sonny on his trembling lips, on his cheek, on his forehead. It was all too gentle for Sonny at that moment. Seeking some kind of purchase, he pushed and rolled on top so that he was straddling Paul. 

        Sonny looked down at him, at his beautiful face and perfect body, and wondered, _Is this what it was like? Did Will want you below him like this? He loves it when it’s us. He loves to ride me. Did you look at him the way you’re looking at me now?_

        Why did it have to be Paul?

        In a bizarre way, it was better that it had been a stranger in Los Angeles, except it wasn’t better because it had _also_ been Paul, which just compounded the betrayal. Fate was cruel to have put Will and Paul together when the truth was that Sonny could never hate Paul, no matter what he had done. Not him. He was _Paul_. His Paul, who he… loved.

        He loved Paul. Maybe it wasn’t in the same way as he used to and it probably couldn’t ever feel as perfect or as clean as it once did. But there was no denying the way Paul still made him feel.

        He still loved Will. And that was cruel, too. It made him nauseous for a whole different reason. But why should he feel guilty? Why, when Will thought he could have whomever he wanted so long as he was feeling bad enough about himself? After Sonny had given him everything else he had, Will _took_ this from him, this last thing, and unknowingly tainted memories and feelings that were supposed to be only his. But Sonny couldn’t have this? Just this, just once, when this felt right and everything else in the world felt broken and wrong?

        “I love you, Sonny,” Paul said, and the sincerity of it broke Sonny’s heart. Paul laid his hand on Sonny’s chest— right above his heart. Sonny wondered if he was counting the heartbeats as he used to do.

        They seemed to be doing a lot of things they used to do, but sex in the woods was a new one. Sonny thought their time for ‘firsts’ was over. Apparently, he was wrong. He was wrong about a lot of things. 

        “I love you, too,” he said, and it came so much easier this time. Sonny was tired of the ache that had settled in his heart, and it only seemed to grow worse every day. Bitterness coated him like a second skin, one that didn’t sit naturally on him. He hated it. 

        The dull emptiness in his heart frightened him. Paul frightened him, because he seemed to want to fill in all the empty corners. It couldn’t be that easy, but Sonny wanted it to be. For once. He took Paul’s hand from his chest and sucked two of his fingers into his mouth. He watched with some relief as Paul’s eyes darkened, distraction taking some of the vulnerability from his expression. 

        With his head swimming, he slid down Paul’s body, pausing to lick and bite at Paul’s hips. He looked up at Paul once more, drank in his wanton expression, and then took Paul into his mouth. Paul made a sound like a wounded animal. “Oh, _God_ , Sonny.” 

        The desperate sounds Paul made as Sonny licked and sucked his cock felt like restitution. And reassurance. The way Paul still looked at him— as if he had never wanted anything or anyone as much as he wanted Sonny— made the pain feel less sharp.

        Paul had told him they belonged to each other. Sometimes, he even made Sonny, in the secret corners of his heart, believe him. But Paul had never explained how that could be true when Sonny still loved Will as he did. Sonny didn’t know how to let Will go any more than Will knew how to let Sonny go. He was afraid to try.

        Paul wanted too much from him. He didn’t appreciate Sonny’s dilemma. In his mind, the matter was simple: they were in love, and so they should be together. They _had_ to be together, because they were in love. 

        Sonny knew better. He knew that he could take all of the feelings Paul inspired in him, and he could put them away somewhere they couldn’t hurt him or anyone else. He had done it before.

        He would do it again. He would carry this secret for all three of them. He would never tell Will about this, and he would never tell Paul about the ugly thoughts that filled his head even now as they made love. He would protect them even as he harmed them. He considered himself collateral damage.

        Sonny realized he wasn’t sure how to quantify all this. Will had taken two men to bed that were not him, and now he himself had cheated on Will once. The choice of Paul for both of them had to count for something. 

        Surely, two men were worse than one, but what if his heart were split in half? In terms of guilt, which side weighed more heavily? 

        Paul breathed his name. He found Sonny’s hand where it gripped his hip and entangled their fingers.

        Later, after Paul had fucked Sonny, and Sonny had fucked Paul, and they were lying spent beside each other on the warm earth, Sonny once again told Paul he loved him. 

        He wondered if this made him and Will even.

 

  
_Finis._  


**Author's Note:**

> Selections of dialogue (in italics) were taken from the episode aired on 6/29/15.


End file.
